As a long-time devotee of “Doctor Who,” diving into a new era always brings a mix of exhilaration and a touch of melancholy. Four episodes into Ncuti Gatwa’s tenure as the Fifteenth Doctor, plus the festive special where he first encountered Ruby Sunday (Millie Gibson), and even the bi-regeneration spectacle with David Tennant’s Tenth-turned-Fourteenth Doctor, and I find myself, predictably, in a state of delightful conflict.
It’s not Gatwa himself; he’s a revelation. My internal struggle is the familiar Whovian rite of passage – the bittersweet acceptance that accompanies each regeneration. Jodie Whittaker’s Doctor, and indeed Tennant’s brief return, have passed, paving the way for a fresh face and a new interpretation of the Time Lord. This transition, though recurring, is never simple. “Doctor Who” enriches its viewers immensely, yet it demands a unique emotional investment unlike any other series, primarily because its central figure is designed to change.
Every few seasons, the Doctor we’ve grown attached to undergoes a transformation, becoming someone distinctly different. While core elements remain – the dual hearts, the TARDIS, the sonic screwdriver, the Gallifreyan legacy, a pacifistic nature, and psychic paper – the Doctor’s persona, style, catchphrases, and temperament shift dramatically.
Originally conceived in 1963 as family entertainment, “Doctor Who” aimed to educate and amuse through time-travel adventures, exploring scientific marvels and historical events. William Hartnell, the First Doctor, faced health challenges, leading to the ingenious concept of “renewal,” later “regeneration,” allowing Patrick Troughton to step into the role while maintaining the character’s continuity.
My own journey with the Doctor began with the 2005 revival spearheaded by Russell T Davies. Christopher Eccleston, Davies’ Ninth Doctor, lasted a single season. David Tennant followed, and remains, in my mind, my Doctor. Even then, it took time to embrace Matt Smith’s Eleventh Doctor, despite his fondness for fish fingers and custard. Soon enough, Smith’s Doctor, with his bow tie and fez, became equally beloved. The 50th-anniversary special, uniting Tennant and Smith and introducing John Hurt as the War Doctor, only briefly hinted at the next transformation. This might explain why it took almost half a season to fully accept Peter Capaldi’s Twelfth Doctor. Clara, his companion, voiced a common sentiment upon seeing Smith morph into Capaldi: “I don’t think I know who the Doctor is anymore.”
Yet, we all eventually did. Just as Capaldi seemed eternal in the role, Jodie Whittaker emerged as the Thirteenth Doctor. And let’s not even delve into the ever-evolving companions – I still fondly remember Martha (Freema Agyeman) and was thrilled to see Donna (Catherine Tate) return in recent specials – or the Master’s (or Mistress’s, bring back Michelle Gomez!) shifting identities.
For ardent fans, this constant change is emotionally taxing. Television typically thrives on familiarity and consistency. “Doctor Who,” however, has long defied this rule. It predates the trend of “prestige” dramas killing off lead characters for shock value. Instead, “Doctor Who” bends the very essence of television by regularly replacing its central character, challenging audiences to reinvest in someone new, yet fundamentally the same.
Imagine Tony Soprano being recast every few seasons – unthinkable! While many shows now aspire to cinematic scope, “Doctor Who” operates more like theatre. The Doctor is a role, akin to Hamlet or Willy Loman, not defined by a single actor but reimagined by a succession of performers, many with strong stage backgrounds, fittingly for this British institution.
This change is integral to the show’s charm. Fan anticipation and media speculation build as each Doctor approaches their final season – who will embody the New Doctor? The Whittaker-Gatwa transition marked a significant moment, breaking the long-standing pattern of white, male Doctors. Predictably, this sparked tiresome accusations of “wokeness,” ignoring the show’s diverse history of companions.
Ncuti Gatwa, the first Black and openly queer Doctor, is rightly celebrated for inaugurating a “new era.” With Russell T Davies back as showrunner, “Doctor Who” is now a collaboration between Disney, BBC, and Bad Wolf, aiming for a broader audience via Disney+. This is evident in Gatwa’s Doctor patiently explaining Time Lord basics to Ruby, echoing the First Doctor and his granddaughter Susan, hinting at potential classic character returns.
I’m personally hoping Davies will reintroduce Jenny, the Doctor’s “daughter,” a clone from Tennant’s era, played by Georgia Moffett. The real-life daughter of Fifth Doctor Peter Davison and wife of David Tennant, Moffett’s Jenny seemingly died but revived, last seen venturing into space.
Pairing the Fifteenth Doctor with a young companion like Ruby is a masterstroke, reminiscent of Rose Tyler and allowing for exposition without alienating new viewers, unlike Capaldi’s initially less patient Doctor. This new Doctor seems remarkably self-aware, readily sharing his history, a departure from previous incarnations. Gatwa’s infectious enthusiasm eases this transition, bridging the gap between new and veteran fans. References to the First Doctor resonate with long-timers, while fresh adversaries ensure a shared viewing experience for everyone.
Change remains challenging, even when anticipated. The Doctor is a unique entity, both singular and universal, embodying individuality and collective human experience. Our lives, like the Doctor’s, are journeys through space and time, filled with love and inevitable loss. Yet, “Doctor Who” reminds us, regeneration, in all its forms, is always possible. The new Doctor may look and act differently, but the essence of the Doctor – the love, the adventure, the hope – endures.
